


Mum's Supernatural Drabble Collection

by Chrysanthemum_White



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrysanthemum_White/pseuds/Chrysanthemum_White
Summary: Traditional 100-word drabbles, one per chapter.





	1. Winchester Drives

The impala rumbles up the road. In her leather seats an argument brews and boils over. Sam falls quiet and Dean turns up the radio. Always the same classic songs.

The tension between them elongates the night. It's eighty miles to their destination, but the drive feels like millenniums of signposts and rural crossroad stoplights. The town is an oasis of light nestled in woods that block the stars.

They've spent so long in silence now there's no time left for words.

Dean props the trunk with his sawed-off shotgun. Their armory lies in eager wait.

So begins the hunt.


	2. Castiel's Death

Castiel's wings in death formed a nuclear shadow. His vessel hollowed out and became a graceless husk. Dean caressed a wingspan both smooth and cold. Colder still at each feather's center, where the shafts formed a skeletal framework. The pavement was in comparison harsh, gritty, but the same frigidity. Warmth had abandoned the world.

As had God.

As had Mother Mary.

As had every person they'd ever met, if Dean was being honest.

He still had Sammy. Not for long if Lucifer's kid turned out to be rotten like the rest.

Sammy was calling.

Dean closed Castiel's eyes and rose.


	3. Hunting

The middles of hunts are hardest. No way out, no way back. Everything's always on the line. The monster doesn't matter. There's only the _now._

No eyes on Sam. Scenarios worse than the worst running through Dean's mind. Adrenaline and pulled triggers and rock salt bullets and the _mist of dead matter_ and recoil one moment then retaliation the next.

Pain.

"Sammy!"

In the pause Dean's emotions aren't battling for control. They're imploding, exploding, all fractals reflecting, refracting—fury worry indignation hurt _urgency_ —they demand equal attention in simultaneous stimulation.

"Dean!"

Dean finds Sam, rights him. Standing astride they _aim._


End file.
